


Sheherazade

by lixabiz



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Doctor Who (Big Finish Audio)
Genre: BAMF Rose, Bad Wolf, Big Finish Audio, Dimension!Hopping!Rose, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-16
Updated: 2014-11-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 13:21:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2623229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lixabiz/pseuds/lixabiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While leaping through dimensions, Rose lands in the realm of a monster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sheherazade

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU that combines Dimension!Hopping!Rose with the Eighth Doctor of the Big Finish audio plays. Spoilers for the latter, I suppose. I wrote this for the 50 AUs meme (prompt: ‘Sheherazade’).

The last three trips have been futile, unfruitful endeavours. Travelling has made her recognize her own smallness, her own insignificance and every blinking star is a reminder of the darkness to come.  
  
She enters the co-ordinates with shaky fingers. The vortex swirls and churns like a tornado and Rose disappears into nothingness.  
  
On the other side, a monster dwells in a castle made of cages, designed to keep him safe.  
  
*  
  
The Universe expands like a pinprick of light, exerting it’s existence upon her in a widening arc of vision and sound. Rose lies on the floor, disoriented.  
  
She moves. Searing pain spreads like wildfire through her left side. She’s afraid to look. The landing must have been wrong - tough to navigate when you’re unconscious. It’s happened, once or twice.  
  
She opens her eyes. Her arm is twisted at an angle that ought to be impossible in tangent to the rest of her body. It’s broken. She closes her eyes.  
  
 _It’s alright_ , she thinks. _I’m alive. I’m still alive._  
  
"You should really get that looked at, you know."  
  
A voice, dark, amused, rich as chocolate and threaded with electricity breaks the quiet.  
  
"Pity there aren’t any Doctors here. Just me."  
  
Something like lightning darts through her, sends painful sparks coursing through her veins. Her last thought as the pinprick closes upon itself is that the voice is not a kind one.  
  
*  
  
Rose dreams of a wolf.  
  
The wolf stares into her soul, bites into it and  leaves a print, an echo of itself. It’s howling turns into song and golden light. Atoms disintegrate. They reform. A man gasps back to life.  
  
Flashes of red blur her vision and a terrible pain takes hold of her golden skull. Fortunately for Rose, those chosen by wolves do not die.  
  
*  
  
Her arm is back in it’s proper place when she regains consciousness. It doesn’t hurt but for a dull ache. The break is clean, already partially healed. There’s something wrong about that, but Rose chooses to ignore it.  
  
Someone is in the room.  
  
It _is_ a room, she realises. A small room with white walls and a bed. She’s lying on it. At the foot of the bed there is a chair.  
  
"It healed you," the someone says. She tries to look, but what she sees doesn’t make sense. It’s not right. Rose breathes, once, twice, masters the nausea. Her brain is trying to compensate, trying to fill in the lines. It can’t. Whatever this… this thing is, it shouldn’t exist.  
  
"What are you?" She asks. Her voice is weak.  
  
"I’m a king, you might say, and this is my domain. A ruler with no past, no present, no future. My kingdom is a perpetuity of meaningless chaos. A Now, with no beginning or end. And you, girlie, are my first visitor."  
  
She’s seen things. Frightening things. But this, a gut feeling tells her, is unlike anything else.  
  
"Are you going to kill me?" she asks.  
  
"Probably," it says, in it’s crackly, inhuman voice. "Very probably. But not yet. I’m so very bored, you see, and the cat has disappeared yet again. I’m tired of it. I think I’ll play with you, for a while. You’re a mystery, after all."  
  
"Where am I?"  
  
"I’ve already told you. You’re in my world. Fell right into it. Very odd, that. Very odd, you. It doesn’t want me to harm you. I’ve decided, for the moment, to play along."  
  
There are no doors or windows in the room. No lights, no carpets, no flooring. Just white.  
  
The thing in the chair says, “Why don’t you tell me who you are?”  
  
She doesn’t reply.  
  
"How did you get here?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"You know I’ll get it out of you, one way or another. I have my ways, and trust me, you won’t like them."  
  
She clenches her jaw, stays impassive. She forces herself to speak. The question has to be asked, though she dreads the answer.  
  
"Are you the Doctor?"  
  
"A healer? A wise man? Or an authority figure?"  
  
"The Doctor," she repeats.  
  
"I knew a fellow by that name," the monster says casually. "An annoying fellow, full of stupid ideals. There’s no cure for stupidity, you know. I got rid of him."  
  
Rose grips her knees, nails digging into her flesh, the pain a reminder of reality.  
  
It giggles, a horrific sound. “Might be bits and pieces left, somewhere. Hard to tell. Careful where you tread, Blondie.”  
  
 _It’s a lie,_ she tells herself. _The Doctor isn’t dead. He can’t be._  
  
"I don’t believe you," she says aloud.  
  
"Oh? Don’t you? Believe me. I’ve put him underground. Deep, deep, deep down. Good and buried." Glee fills its voice. "There’s little chance of him surfacing now."  
  
She tries to look at it, really see it, but it’s… _wrong_ , just really wrong, and the longer she looks the sicker she feels. Finally her eyes swim and her focus snaps and the thing gets out of the chair. It looms over her. Every bone in her body starts to ache, repulsed by it’s proximity.  
  
Black descends, swallowing the white room in it’s maws.  
  
*  
  
The Doctor appears in a dream. His leather jacket is worn and covered in dust. He’s standing across the room, half concealed by darkness.  
  
 _I’ve been waiting for you_ , he says.  
  
Rose wants to cry. _I miss you._  
  
 _This old face? You can’t have._ He smiles. _Come on, Rose. Take my hand._  
  
 _There’s a monster over there,_ she says, and the shadows seem to take on the vague shape of a man, a velvet solidity that swallows the form of her beloved.  
  
 _So there is_ , he shrugs. _Come here anyway. It’s just a monster. What are you afraid of?_  
  
 _This one’s different, Doctor,_ Rose tells him. _This one is wrong. It’s an abomination._  
  
He cups her face in his big, comforting hand. _Yes. This monster’s inside the house. It’s eating us alive. Won’t be able to fight him off for much longer._  
  
 _I don’t understand._ She’s desperate. _Please. Tell me what to do. I’m trapped here, I can’t do what I’m supposed to be doing._  
  
 _You’re looking for me,_ he says. _You’ve found me._  
  
She closes her eyes. _You’re not real._  
  
 _No,_ he agrees, his voice fading into static at the edges. _But he is._  
  
She wakes up. Awareness comes swiftly, terrifyingly. She bites her tongue to keep from screaming.  
  
"What were you dreaming of?"  
  
"Nothing. What do you want?"  
  
"Entertainment. There was another, like you. All yellow and pathetic. A snivelling mess, I sent her away. Don’t know what’s become of the silly creature. You’re much better. Made of sterner stuff. You’ll last, won’t you."  
  
It lets go, and Rose can breathe. There’s a smugness to the creature’s laughter that lets her know it knows: it can hurt her, just by existing. Whatever it is, whatever she has become, they are anathema to each other.  
  
"Time traveller," the monster says musingly. "That’s what you are, aren’t you?"  
  
"Time and all of space," Rose says, summoning her courage. Never show fear. Never let it win. "Don’t belittle me."  
  
Something clamps around her ankle and squeezes experimentally, delivering crushing pain. She blacks out once more.  
  
*  
  
The wolf finds its way to a big house, not _the_ house, but another almost as tantalising. The smells of this house soothe her, calls to a different part of her, untouched by golden light.  
  
A light appears in the window. A woman sits beside the bed of a child.  
  
 _Mummy, mummy, where’s Rosie gone?_  
  
 _Hush, love. Your sister’s sleeping. She’s tired from her trip._  
  
The wolf looks into the window, but it can’t come in. It doesn’t belong here. Wolves cannot live in houses.  
  
 _But where did she go?_  
  
 _Through the void, to find the Doctor. You must never go, sweetheart. Not you. You belong here, where the void can’t take you. It mustn’t change you._  
  
 _Can’t we let her in? She’s so lonely and cold._ The boy points at his window, but his mother shakes her head.  
  
 _No, sweetheart. Your sister is sleeping, remember? She’s dreaming of us, but we’re not important._  
  
A great despair wells in the wolf’s chest. It howls and howls, but no sound comes out.  
  
 _But Mummy. She’s crying._  
  
The woman turns her head and looks at the wolf.  
  
 _There’s nothing for you here._  
  
 _WAKE UP._  
  
*  
  
A tear slips from the corner of Rose’s left eye. She doesn’t wipe it away. The dream still hurts, like a festering wound, a guilt-ridden phantom ache she can never exorcise away.   
  
"You’re an odd thing, aren’t you? Always unconscious. Keep this up, and I’ll get bored."  
  
"Don’t touch me. Stay away."  
  
The monster laughs, crackly and sinister.  
  
"Haven’t you figured it out?" Rose grits her teeth, forces the words out. "It’s you. I black out when you come near me."  
  
There’s a silent pause. Then, with another laugh, it says, “How delightful. So. Now that you’re awake and lucid, why don’t you give me a reason not to kill you on the spot?”  
  
 _I haven’t got one_ , Rose thinks. _I’ve got nothing, except the clothes on my back and a malfunctioning dimension cannon._  
  
"You’re clutching that thing, like it’s precious. What is it? It’s broken, you realise. It won’t work here. Out of juice."  
  
Rose doesn’t answer. She tries to think, tries to form a plan. Nothing comes to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the thing take a step towards the bed. She scrambles to her feet, alarmed, adrenaline making her movements jerky, undisciplined. It’s a pointless action, anyway - there is no where to run.  
  
But the monster doesn’t move. Rose doesn’t look, she can’t, but she can _feel_ it looking. Looking past her. Looking beyond - which doesn’t make sense. There is nothing there.  
  
"What is that?"  
  
Rose exhales, slowly. She turns her head.  
  
On the white walls words have appeared. Big words, heavily scrawled, gouged into the surface, blood red letters.  
  
 _BAD WOLF._  
  
"What is that?" There’s anger, pitched low in it’s unnatural voice. "What is that? What’s bad wolf? Answer me!"  
  
The air sizzles with heat, burning Rose. She lurches back, hands pressed to the wall for support. It feels like brick, cool to the touch, unaffected by the currents of rage flowing out of the monster.  
  
 _BAD WOLF. BAD WOLF. BAD WOLF._  
  
The words etch themselves over and over, everywhere. Something like triumph wells in Rose’s chest, but it’s not quite the right emotion to be feeling.  
  
This is a warning, she knows. Bad Wolf is an omen of things to come.  
  
It is the end of the universe, and the charged creature before her knows it, too, deep in his bones. It lashes out, one vicious strike against the side of her head. The pain is vicious, biting, drowns out everything.  
  
She crumples to the ground, sinking into what she thinks must be death.  
  
*  
  
Rose has a terrible headache, but it goes away after the Doctor kisses her forehead and wraps his leather jacket around her. A vibrant hum lulls her into serenity, but she knows it’s false.  
  
 _You’ve grown up since I’ve been gone_ , he says, his patrician nose in her hair.  
  
 _It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,_ she says back. _Wish I could stay here with you._  
  
He shakes his head. _No you don’t. I’m not real, remember?_  
  
She doesn’t know where they are. Hills spread as far as the eye can see, undulating spines softened by sheathes of swaying red grass. In the distance mountains lurk, gleaming under twin suns.  
  
 _I think I’m dead. I think it killed me._  
  
She delivers the statement with equanimity. If this is death, it’s not so bad, really. Quiet, solace, the love of her life - all within arm’s reach. She could just go on dreaming, let her physical body bleed away until it grows cold. The monster can’t possibly reach her if she’s dead, can it?  
  
 _You’re alive. You’re so alive, Rose Tyler._  
  
He gathers her into his arms, and she speaks into the warm crook of his neck. _I’m scared. I keep coming close, but I keep missing you. Every single time. The stars are going out so fast. I don’t know what to do, Doctor._  
  
A wind lifts a path through the grass, bending the stems like an invisible snake, slithering across the idyllic field. Shivers course through Rose, even though the Doctor holds her. It’s as though the air streams right through him. He’s insubstantial.  
  
 _You looked into me,_ he whispers, _and I looked into you. You musn’t give up. Find me. Or the darkness swallows us all._  
  
A hand grips her own, and it feels solid and tenuous at the same time. The Doctor’s voice is hushed, reverant.  
  
 _What do all monsters want? Where do they live? What feeds them? Fairy tales, Rose Tyler._  
  
 _And you know what? You’ve got ‘em._  
  
*  
  
"Healed again," it says with a churlish sigh. "Pesky blondie. No matter. I quite enjoyed cracking your skull open. I might do it again, just to watch the bones knit back together. That was interesting. I’m really very bored."  
  
"Don’t," she says, and her voice cracks. "Please."  
  
She knows the monster is pleased by the show of weakness, by the plea.  
  
"What have you got to offer me, then, Blondie?"  
  
Suddenly a memory pops into Rose’s mind, like it was placed there. She remembers a book, one that Tony has in his bedroom. _Arabian Nights: 1001 Tales from Sheherazade._ A gift, from a friend of Pete’s, too old for Tony still yet, but a beautiful edition, bound in leather. Rose remembers flipping through it, Tony’s sleepy little body pressed up against her chest. Old stories, dirty stories, brave stories.  
  
"Stories!" she blurts out. "I’ve got stories. Loads of them, loads and loads."  
  
"So tell me a tale," the monster says, at length. "And perhaps I’ll spare you."  
  
His coat crackles with static, like it’s alive. Rose sits on the bed, her back against the wall, eyes closed. She breathes in and out.  
  
"Raxacoricofallapatorius," she begins, and the word comes easily now, flows off the tip of her tongue with the ease of practice and memory. "It’s located at the edge of the Mutter’s Spiral. That’s very, very far way from where I come from. Raxacoricofallapatorious has a purple atmosphere, you know. It can be seen from space. It’s home to the Slitheen. Let me tell you about the Slitheen, nasty creatures…"  
  
And strangely enough, the monster falls silent, as if under a spell… and continues to sit in silence as it listens to her tale.  
  
*  
  
The wolf steps into the grass. It smells like fruit. Anguish and anger wells up inside it, at the sight of this scenery. This should be forbidden. This is untouched territory, precious ground.  
  
In the near distance a man, long-limbed, relaxes on the ground. He pats the space next to him.  
  
 _Lie near me,_ he says, his smile wide, beckoning. _I’ve spread my coat out. Come and see._  
  
The wolf hesitates.  
  
 _It’ll be lovely. You can close your eyes and rest. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You haven’t slept in days, I think. Your eyes are hungry. I’m so sorry this is happening to you. I wish it didn’t have to be this way._  
  
It’s difficult to walk. Then she remembers - _I’m a wolf. Four legs._  
  
She turns in a circle and settles down next to the man with the brown eyes, with the patient, stroking hand. She nuzzles his palm with her snout, takes in his scent. Time and space. Order. Wisdom. Rightness.  
  
The sky darkens in the blink of an eye. It’s night. Swirls of clouds part where the Doctor points, revealing constellations as far as the wolf can see.  
  
He takes her hand, and she notices now that it’s a human hand, a woman’s hand. He points again, nudging her human shoulder. All that’s missing is ash falling from the sky.  
  
 _There,_ he says, eyes dreamy. _The stars are going out. That one, and that one, and that one too. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?_  
  
 _Yes,_ Rose rests her head on his arm. _But I’m stuck here. It won’t let me go. It wants all my stories._  
  
 _It needs you,_ he says. _That’s very me._  
  
She doesn’t understand. _Can you help me?_  
  
 _Trying to. Can’t remember, clearly, sometimes. You know this is a dream, don’t you?_  
  
Rose inhales, afraid to breathe. If she wakes up, the Doctor is gone. If she wakes, the monster awaits. _I know._  
  
 _Braveheart, Rose. Dame Rose. Defender of the Earth. My precious girl._ The Doctor’s eyes flash gold. He lifts a cool hand to her temple, presses a finger to her skin. _There is something of the wolf in you, still._  
  
 _Don’t go,_ she despairs, as the whiteness swallows them and wrenches him away from her.  
  
"What did you dream of?"  
  
She opens her eyes. The Monster is standing over her. He’s too close. Her marrow aches.  
  
"Tell me the story," it demands. "More."  
  
Her mouth is dry, but she opens it and begins another tale.  
  
"On a planet where dogs have no noses," she says, her voice growing stronger, "I fell in love. I think I must have far earlier than that, but I didn’t know it at the time. I was nineteen years old."  
  
The monster king laughs, a derisive sound. “I’ll kill you tonight,” he sneers.  
  
Rose is undaunted. “The man I loved changed his face.”  
  
"You mean he showed his true colours?"  
  
"No. I mean he changed his face."  
  
"You’ll die," he warns.  
  
"Haven’t yet," she says, digging her nails into her palm. She clenches hard enough to draw blood. _You’ve seen worse,_ a voice says in her head, it’s northern accent familiar. _You’ve fought bigger monsters._  
  
"When you run out of tales-"  
  
"I won’t."  
  
"Go on, then."  
  
*  
  
Rose is unsure if time passes in the white room. It never changes. There’s no day or night. She falls in and out of dreams, and the monster disappears, every now and then.  
  
It’s never gone for long, and a buzzing sort of excitement follows it when it returns. Eventually she realises: it does not want to leave her side. It growls impatiently for her to continue her story, wants more and more each time. It clamours for details, for facts, for bits of information Rose finds random, inconsequential.  
  
She always stops on a cliffhanger or at a pivotal point. A locked airway. A betrayal. A car tire screeching. A nuclear warhead, a dalek’s gaze. Children running from one child, searching for it’s mummy. Citizens, lined up on a roof.  
  
That’s how Sheherazade survived. As plans go, it’s not the worst she’s ever had. Flimsy at best, but she’s scraped by on less.  
  
In between, Rose dreams of the Doctor.  
  
The dreams frighten her, lull her into worlds that make her want to stay. She slaps herself in the face, until her cheek stings. The skin is raw. It makes sense, the pain real.  
  
 _Stay awake. You mustn’t sleep._  
  
But she succumbs yet again.  
  
 _We can’t keep meeting like this,_ she jokes.  
  
He doesn’t reply, but his smile widens. It’s the goofy one, the one she still misses.   
  
_And don’t think I don’t know what this is all about,_ Rose says, looking up at the library shelves. She’s wearing a golden dress, a princess dress. _Allegory. It’s punishable by death on some planets._  
  
The Doctor offers his hand. The leather cuff of his jacket is frayed. _You look beautiful._  
  
 _Considering?_  
  
He smiles wider.  
  
 _I won’t last much longer. I have to go,_ she says. _Please._ _Tell me how to leave this place._  
  
 _You have time for one dance. The universe doesn’t end because Rose Tyler dances._  
  
Bittersweet yearning wells on her tongue. _I can’t._  
  
The Doctor lets his hand drop to his side. Behind him the bookcases morph, condense, darken into a cave. A black pit opens under him. Rose gasps, takes a hasty step backwards. Pebbles disintegrate beneath her feet, clatter down into the abyss. She looks up, reaches out for the Doctor.  
  
It’s too late. He’s falling, falling, his eyes wide with shock behind the helmet. He plummets, his orange spacesuit becoming a speck, until she can no longer see it. Rose screams.  
  
Something moves behind her back. She whirls around, heart pounding, looks into the visor of the astronaut.  
  
The monster’s eyes look back out at her, grim and devastated.  
  
 _Help me._  
  
*  
  
"Am I a bad wolf?"  
  
The monster is talking to her again.  
  
"No," Rose replies.  
  
"I’ve seen it again. On the walls. It follows me like a bad dream. What’s a Bad Wolf?"  
  
 _How many days,_ she wonders wearily, _how many days or months or years have I been here?_  
  
"Something that frightens others," It mutters. "Something that tears and bites and chases down prey. A danger. A symbol. It’s everywhere. Why is that, blondie? Do tell. What’s a bad wolf and why is it chasing me?"  
  
 _A link between me and the Doctor,_ Rose thinks desperately. _The Doctor. He’s here. He must be._ She’s deliberately skipped over any mention of Bad Wolf, of course, and it took some creative license to come up with a way to bridge the Doctor’s regeneration. She’s reaching the end of her stories about him, about their time spent together.   
  
Running out of time.   
  
And so Rose begins the beginning of the end: “At the bottom of the pit lives a beast, more terrible than anything in the Universe.”  
  
"That’s debatable."  
  
Something deprecating in the tone makes Rose’s back stiffen. It’s something a different man might have said.  
  
The change is slow, minimal. She can only see it sometimes, flashes of humour and wit in uncalculated moments. The creature hangs onto her every word, absorbs every sentence. As if it hopes to glean something important from her.  
  
*  
  
The dream is a nightmare this time.  
  
They’re on the beach.  
  
The Doctor stands by her side, this time, staring out over the water. They’re alone. Waves lap at the sand, but all of it is silent.  
  
He opens his mouth, like in all her other visions of him. The words she longs for never come out, and it’s no different this time.  
  
He says, _It sits inside your head, it lives among the dead, it sees you in your bed, and eats you when you’re sleeping._  
  
Riddles. She’s sick of them. Sick of puzzles and mysteries and cryptic messages. Her mind isn’t her own anymore. Someone’s playing with it, manipulating her memories and hopes.  
  
 _What do you want from me? This isn’t the right timeline. I have to move on. Do you understand? I have to go._  
  
 _Not long now,_ he assures her.  
  
She finds it hard to believe. She asks, _Am I ever going to see you again?_  
  
The answer is lost in the crash of waves, sudden and deafening.  
  
Rose reaches for the Doctor, but he dodges her, always one step ahead, forever out of sync. It’s the greatest tragedy of her life. Chasing a dream, an image. No touch.  
  
 _I don’t think there’s enough left of you here._   
  
*  
  
When she wakes, the monster is holding her hand. The touch of his skin burns like electricity. The howling in her head becomes unbearable, but she doesn’t lose consciousness.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
The monster’s voice - it’s different. The razor edge of static isn’t there. Rose looks at him, and feels like she’s perched on the edge of a precipice. The inexplicable yearning to fling herself off it overtakes her.  
  
"These stories. They’re not made up. You have seen these things. This man. You know him."  
  
"I do."  
  
"Where is he now?"  
  
"I think," she says. "You killed him."  
  
"Did I?" It seems astonished. "Oh yes, I did, didn’t I? Your Doctor. Annoying fellow. Oh, don’t look like that."  
  
"You killed him, but he’s not gone."  
  
Rose believes it now. He’s here. The Doctor, somewhere inside this thing she can’t bear to look at.  
  
It seems annoyed by her assertion and drops her hand. Rose braces herself for the inevitable.  
  
"I can stop your little heart with one touch." A charged finger hovers above her chest. "That’s not figurative, either. I could erase you, out of time and space. Anti-time. Do you know what that is?"  
  
 _Abomination,_ a silvery chant choruses in her head. _Be afraid_ , _wolf._  
  
"No," she says, swallowing bile and terror.  
  
"Lesson time," it grates. "Shall I show you what it means to be timeless? You stink of it. The void. Time. My touch, it would eat you alive, destroy every atom in your body."  
  
"You held my hand," she counters, courage and hope bolstering her. "It didn’t kill me. I’m not afraid of you."  
  
The monster grinds to a halt.  
  
"Doctor," Rose whispers into the silence, the first opening, "I know you’re in there. Fight it, I know you can."  
  
"You’re a hallucination," it says, at last. There is real anguish in it’s voice. A genuine emotion.  
  
"I’m not. Touch me. Take my hand."  
  
"You aren’t real. You can’t help me, can you? It hurts. I can’t describe to you how much it hurts, like being torn apart from the inside out."  
  
"Try," Rose begs, "Please. You have to try. I know you’re in there. I came all this way-"  
  
 _"Why did you come here?"_ He shouts, anguished. “What good was it,” his eyes roam wildly, over the nothingness above, “To bring her _here?_ To tell me of days to come that will never pass? What was the point? Tell me, damn you!”  
  
He lunges for her and seizes her by the throat, his hands squeeze, hard, around her neck. She chokes, fights him, but she can’t win. The monster stares at her, malice pouring from his gaze.  
  
"Anti-time," he whispers, his grip easing a minute fraction. "Infection. It’s in my cells, in my dna, erasing every last bit of me. I’m lost."  
  
Tears well, blurs her vision. She struggles to breathe, her throat working to expand against his iron grip. Her lungs burn.  
  
"She brought you here!"  
  
"What," Rose croaks, her voice cracking. "What brought me here?"  
  
The monster opens its jaws and screams a word, a word that makes the wolf inside her head begin to howl. The word hangs in the air like the moon, full and resonant, sentient, _alive._  
  
 _TARDIS._  
  
*  
  
The TARDIS cares. It mends, houses, translates, protects. It befuddles, contorts, fights against attack and infection and corruption. It always has, and always will.  
  
The TARDIS finds a wolf inside it’s walls, and brings the wolf to the centre of the maze, where a monster awaits.  
  
 _I know who you are,_ she says to the man on the beach. He grins at her, but his eyes are sad. _I don’t know why you brought me here._  
  
The Doctor puts on his glasses and takes her into his arms. He begins to recite. _Anti-time: as intractable and destructive a force to causality as antimatter is to space. The web of time hangs in the balance, a target for the Neverpeoples of the Divergent Worlds._  
  
The Doctor swings her across the sandy shore, his arm around her waist. She’s weightless, breathless, her feet barely touch the ground.  
  
 _I reached out through time and space, through the darkness. I found a Valiant Child and brought it here to fight the monsters. I am compromised. My barriers are breaking. I put the precious one into quarantine, but he cannot hear me any longer. I cannot reach him._  
  
 _What can I do?_ Rose asks, helplessly. _I’m useless here._  
  
 _You can,_ his silvery voice chimes. _You already know the answer._  
  
 _I don’t!_  
  
 _Wake him. It’s time._  
  
 _How? If he could, he would’ve… you would’ve… the infection’s too deep. You’re shaking. You’re infected, too, aren’t you? These visions don’t make sense, but it’d because you’re sick, too._  
  
Rose touches his cool cheek. _Is there no cure?_  
  
The Doctor’s eyes flash gold again. _No. Not here. The damage is irreparable. I was sacrificed. But we can be removed. The web of time can remain intact, if we leave. There’s hope elsewhere, in unknown worlds._  
  
 _I’m sorry,_ says Rose. _I’m sorry you’re suffering too. You don’t deserve it._  
  
 _You must wake him._  
  
Rose despairs. _I don’t know how!_  
  
They dance faster and faster, circling one another. The world blurs into a whirlwind of colours. The Doctor leans his face near hers. Heat and yearning drifts off him.  
  
 _Come on, Rose. Clever Rose. You know the answer. Positive and Negative. Do the math._  
  
She looks back at him, troubled. _I was never good at math._  
  
He twirls her, dipping her dangerously low. Her hair sweeps the ground, but there is no ground now. Waves lap at their ankles. Her feet are bare, the water is icy cold.  
  
 _No loss, no gain,_ he whispers. _One step forward, one step backward._  
  
Rose shivers. Above them a light appears.  
  
 _Follow me._  
  
One dream merges seamlessly into another. The wolf picks up the scent, follows it down harrowing landscapes, further and further into the heart of the forest.  
  
The trees are twisted, like skeletons, bare-limbed. Moss grows on their trunks, but the moss isn’t ordinary moss. It’s a parasite, leeching the life out of the woods, drowning it, snuffing out the light.  
  
The wolf shivers and whines, afraid of this encroaching disease. It picks up its pace, following the smell of something old and familiar, something desperately longed for. The forest turns into a corridor that leads to an archway with a gate. It’s locked.  
  
Rose wakes with a start, breathing hard. She puts both hands to her throat. It feels fine, perfectly normal, under her trembling fingers. No lingering pain, no soreness. No sign that a savage miscreant recently tried to strangle her to death.  
  
She gets off the bed. The monster isn’t here. There’s a door in the far wall of the room. There’s never been a door before.   
  
Something small and brightly coloured catches her eye. A small thing, resting on the abandoned chair. Rose scoops it up, heart racing.  
  
A single thought enters her head. _Zero._  
  
"You’re sadistic," she says to the white room, understanding at last. "You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?"  
  
She slips the piece of confection in her mouth, keeping it tucked lightly under her tongue. It won’t last long.  
  
"Bring him, then," she says.  
  
The monster blinks into existence. It seems unaware of its change in scenery at first, but soon seems to figure out it has moved. Perhaps unwillingly. A scent fills the air, charcoal and ash, bitter, ominous.   
  
"I’ve run out of stories," Rose says, without preamble. "I know who you are. Who you really are. I s’pose I should say the body you’ve stolen. I love him. If you’re going to kill me, then I want one last thing. One last kiss. A kiss goodbye."  
  
The monster snarls, disgusted.  
  
"I won’t take that personally," she says evenly. "Provided you kiss me."  
  
It growls, “Why?”  
  
"In the fairy tales, a kiss turns the beast into a prince. Wanna try?"  
  
Before it can react, or recoil, Rose launches herself at it. She grabs the part of it she knows must be it’s head, feels for something, anything, that could remotely be construed as a mouth.  
  
It screams as she does this. _Now there’s a kick to the self-esteem_ , she thinks deliriously. Her mouth feels burnt, raw, but she doesn’t let go, not until the jelly baby passes from her tongue into the writhing, seething creature.  
  
She wrenches herself away, respiratory system working overtime, drawing air into bruised lungs. Blood trickles down her chin from a painful split in her lower lip. Her teeth feel raw, like they’ve been ground down by gritty shards of sand.  
  
Rose turns tail and runs. The door opens on its own, letting her through. A white tunnel stretches ahead, so long and crooked it seems to waver before her eyes. An optical illusion.  
  
 _"You can’t run,"_ the monster screams from behind her. “There’s no where to run!”  
  
Her ankle twists, painfully, but she keeps going. The corridor seems endless, a barren white road, with nothing but darkness at the end and evil at her back.  
  
 _You mustn’t give up._  
  
 _Find me._  
  
The corridor gives way to a cavern, dripping with stalacite. In the distance an archway looms, growing bigger and bigger as Rose limps headlong towards it. The polished metal gate gleams beckoningly, seeming to pulse in time with the hammering of her heart.  
  
"Don’t you dare," she says, pushing on it, but it’s not locked. It swings open under the force of her hand, weightless, and then she’s made it. She’s home.  
  
The console room, almost exactly as she remembers it. The central column glows golden, oscillating with joy, as glad to see her as she is to see it.  
  
"Found you," she whispers. "Found you at last."  
  
At the mouth of the cavern the monster stills. Rose looks at him, her breath caught in her bruised throat. She can see him now, a battered soul in a velvet coat, his curly hair matted and tangled. The static that exists as a constant cloud around him is subdued, almost invisible.  
  
"What is your name?"  
  
"Rose Tyler," she says.  
  
"Rose Tyler," the man repeats. His voice is cultured and lovely. She can see it now. He’s a man, the man who used to be. His face becomes clear. It’s a striking face, full of distinction. A handsome face, confused and wondering. "Do I know you, Rose Tyler?"  
  
"You will."  
  
"You’re leaving," he says.  
  
She hovers, again, on that precipice. Everything hinges on this moment.  
  
"Come with me," she offers. "The TARDIS is infected. It’s not safe here."  
  
"I can’t leave, Rose Tyler. If I leave, it takes over. There will be nothing left of me. Don’t you see? It will spread. Everything that was, or is, or will be - everything consumed, erased, cancelled out. Zagreus takes the Universe, if I go out there."  
  
"But," she forms the words around the lump in her throat, willing herself to stay calm. "You’re… _you_ now.”  
  
"You gave me a piece of zero-matter. It restored me, to what I was. Thank you. It’s not enough."  
  
"What will you do?"  
  
"I’m not sure. I’m not quite myself right now."  
  
"What happened? What made you this way?"  
  
"There was an explosion, an anti-time bomb. I materialised the TARDIS around it to contain the chaos. I had to save my friends."  
  
"Sounds like you," she says, smiling.   
  
"You know me," he says, loaded with meaning. It’s a question and a statement at the same time. "Always doing the noble thing."  
  
 _Noble._ The word ignites a sense of urgency inside Rose, reminds her that there’s still work to do. The Doctor - a Doctor who doesn’t recognize her, not in the way he should - looks calmly on, waiting.   
  
_If you don’t know me,_ she thinks, gripping the dimension cannon, that means we haven’t met yet. _That means there are days to come._  
  
The alternative - that he’s forgotten her - she doesn’t consider it for a second. _Not to you,_ he said once. The words have tattooed themselves onto her soul.   
  
A very different sense of sorrow lodges itself into the back of her mind; taking the form of regret. Regret that she will never get to know this Doctor better.    
  
"You’ll survive this," she tells him, her voice fierce. "You have to."  
  
A ghost of a smile appears on his lips. “I hope so, Rose Tyler. My only regret is that I won’t remember you. I’m asleep, you see and all of thid will be a dream to me. It’s been six months since the explosion, since I last saw Charley. It’s about time to wake up. Thank you for this moment of clarity, Rose. You came when the TARDIS called and I am grateful.”  
  
Again, she asks, “What will you do?”  
  
"Fight the anti-time, to the best of my ability."  
  
"I’ll be waiting," says Rose. "I’ll be the terrified blonde in the basement of a shop."  
  
The console throbs, bursts into light. The Doctor smiles, strange and familiar at the same time. Rose lifts the dimension cannon, sets it on the console.  
  
"Please," she says into the air.  
  
A compartment opens next to a row of switches. She tries to remember if she ever knew what their purpose is. She can’t recall.  
  
"Fit it into the slot," instructs the man standing behind her.  
  
Rose does as told. The console whirs and wheezes, louder and harder than Rose has ever heard before. The TARDIS is struggling, giving up her last bit of precious power.  
  
Rose lays a hand on the warm metal, fighting back tears. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I wish I could do more.”  
  
Tendrils of glowing mist float from the machinery, wrapping around Rose’s fingers like a caress. The cannon emits sparks and ejects itself from the console, landing in Rose’s hand.  
  
Charged.  
  
Time to go.  
  
She turns her head. She asks, knowing there isn’t hope in the first place, “Doctor?”  
  
He’s gone. His eyes crackle with static and time, his voice blazes like an inferno.  
  
"Zagreus." He roars a dying Timelord’s rage. "Now get out!"  
  
Rose pushes the button. With a sickening rush of void she’s ripped out of this dimension and thrust into another, one where sirens fill the air.  
  
 _Zagreus at the end of days,_  
 _Zagreus lies all other ways,_  
 _Zagreus comes when time’s a maze,_  
 _And all of history is weeping._


End file.
